Right kind of Wrong

“I close my eyes, thinking that there is nothing like an embrace after an absence, nothing like fitting my face into the curve of his shoulder and filling my lungs with the scent of him.”

He moved towards me staggeringly. No part of his movement was untoward or unplanned. I hated the sight of him, yet his brusque mannerisms made me awkwardly comfortable. I wanted to turn back and run away as fast as I could, but here I was, standing in front of the only man who had ever seen a daft of terror in my eyes, drowning in the smell of his musk.

His touch sent a shiver down my spine. I turned back and closed my eyes wishing feverishly, hoping this to be a horrid dream. He planted a kiss on my neck whispering fervidly into my ears, “I want you, now.”

I wasn’t in a position to think any longer of the past, or of future repercussions. I was suddenly swept by a torrid of emotions; I slapped him as hard as I could and mumble the words, “How could you?” He looked unperturbed and said nothing. I punched him in his chest and kept punching till I was howling in the middle of the road, unable to pull out a single sentence. Deep inside, I had always known that he would come back to me, just like he had left two years back. I had been aware that I would fight my parents and wait for him, even if he never came back.

“I will not let you touch me, do you get that?”

“You think you can fuck the daylights out of me and leave, just like that? I hate you, I hate you every ounce of my body and my soul. You don’t deserve me. You don’t deserve anyone, not even a prostitute. You ...”

He took me in his arms and all my anger enveloped. Why could I not be resilient and headstrong? Why could I not hate him enough to free myself from every little thing which reminded me of him?”

“Have faith in me, please.” – his eyes looked painful, for the first time.

“Look, I know you are here to just quench your physical desires. So just do that. Don’t ask me to trust you when you know that you can never be trusted.”

“Then I would rather not make love to you.”

“Take me to your apartment. I want you to make love to me. I want you to love me, morning, noon and night. I want you to love me. I don’t want anything else. Please love me.”

I could not believe my ears. I wondered whatever happened to the free spirited 25 year old who had promised herself to never be overbearingly crazy about any man, ever in her life.

When we finally returned back to his place, I almost dove on him as soon the door closed behind us. I unbuttoned his Hilfiger shirt and buried myself in his chest, the place where I felt safest. He stood limpid and said, “You know I don’t think this is a good idea, you had too much to drink.”

“No, I did not. Love me. Love me.”, tears welled down my eyes, tears of immense pain and desperation.

He did not utter a single word after that. He unzipped his pants, took me in his arms and carried me to his bedroom. He touched me with such tenderness and brought me back to life. I cried throughout knowing that the next morning, when I would wake up, he wouldn’t be there beside me. I finally fell asleep hugging him as tight as I could with the hope that he could never escape.

Next morning I woke up to find myself alone in the bed. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I found a note on my table, unlike the other times.

“I love you. I think you know that already. I used to see myself as an overbearing compulsion that wanted to but could never escape you. I had never seen love in my life, till you came along. Never believed in it truly till the first time you let me hold your hand, never experienced it in all its might till we made love to each other. I have tried not to depend on anyone in my life, for absolutely anything. Last night I realized what a fool I was to believe in such a thing. Which person in his right senses would ever want to let go of you? I love you, and this one last time, I am here to stay.

P.S – You had run out of supplies so made a run to the supermarket so that I could fix up breakfast for ‘US’”

It took me about a zillion years to read his incorrigible handwriting. I heard a click on the door. Life was changing finally - and for the better.